Bozhe moi, spacibo
by MLaw
Summary: "He knew it had been raining, that much he remembered...and the screams. But what happened that day? Where are they?" he kept asking again and again...potential tragedy strikes the Kuryakin family. # 19 in the Saga-series. AU
1. Chapter 1

**"Bozhe moi, spacibo"**

He was spiraling out of control, holding on desperately to the stick as the helicopter plummeted, there were screams...children, Elliott. A crash. But wait, they weren't there in the chopper with him? The children? The children..."

Illya Kuryakin weakly opened his eyes, he had been dreaming again, but it was so real. Then he looked at his surroundings; he was in a hospital bed, but not in medical. This place was unfamiliar.

His head hurt...no pounded and every muscle in his body ached. He looked down, seeing his arm in a cast, then suddenly realized he couldn't move his head, he then reached up, exploring with his free hand and touching what felt like a neck brace.

He exhaled deeply, thankful that he had survived the helicopter crash. Everything seemed as though he were in a fog. It was raining. He could see the drops of water sliding down the large window to the left of his bed. It was raining, yes it was raining that day. Then an overwhelming sense of panic filled him.

"_Elliott_?" he cried out with desperation in his voice.

A blond-haired nurse rushed into his room.

"Mr. Kuryakin, you need to settle down. Everything will be alright, " she assured him, gently patting his shoulder with her hand.

"Where am I and where are my wife and children...where are they?" His voice showed signs of agitation. And where is Napoleon, why is he not here? He is always at my bedside when I wake up."

"We've gone over this before sir, you're in Coney Island Hospital and I told you Mr. Kuryakin, umm...your family, they're okay. Remember you were in a car accident?" She tried speaking positively and soothingly to calm his fears.

"No, you are lying. Now where is my family? I want to see them," he insisted, trying to lift the covers to get out of bed.

"I've told you before, you _cannot _get out of bed," she said, pulling the blanket from his hand and covering him with it again. "Mr. Kuryakin, your wife and son were released, and they've been here to see you. Your daughter is still hospitalized, understand? And Mr. Solo has been with you, he just stepped out for a few minutes.

"Nyet, there was no car accident...it was a helicopter crash and they were not there. Why are you lying to me...where is my family?" Who are you? He grabbed the nurses wrist, holding onto her. Why will you not tell me where they are?"

Now he was becoming completely distraught.

"Mr. Kuryakin, we have gone over this before," the nurse gently insisted.

"Will you stop repeating my name...I know who I am!"

"You and your family _were_ in a car accident. You all were brought by ambulance to Coney Island Hospital, and you've been here for three days. Your wife and son were released yesterday and your daughter is in ICU. You sustained a broken arm, head and neck trauma and had abdominal surgery. You are having difficulty remembering the details. You need to calm down now."

"I will not calm down...I want my family!" His voice was going up in pitch and was beginning to crack.

"Now if you don't let go of my wrist, I'll scream for an orderly and he'll put you in restraints and I'll have to sedate you. Is that what you want?"

He let go of her, but did not believe her story for one minute.

The nurse rubbed her wrist then turned to leave, passing the handsome dark haired man who was coming into the room. She remembered he'd been at the patients bedside all night long until he came to. "He's at it again Mr. Solo," she whispered.

"Tovarisch, you're awake." The American smiled at his partner.

"Napoleon, please you have to help me. I need to find out where my family is, they will not tell me the truth." His voice was filled with desperation.

"You need to calm down buddy and compose yourself. Look, you've suffered a quite lump on that stubborn Russian head of yours and you're having trouble remembering, not to mention a neck and back injury and your broken arm and they had to sew up a pretty big wound in your gut. You were in a car accident with Elliott and the kids. Ellie and Demmy have been released with only minor contusions and abrasions. Lala..." he hesitated," Lourdes Mary is in intensive care."

Illya looked dumbfounded. This was his partner...his friend and had to be telling him the truth. "I was not in a helicopter crash?"

"Not recently... no," Napoleon answered, knowing what was coming next as he'd had this exact conversation with his partner several times.

"When...where did it happen?"

"On the Belt Parkway near Coney Island Avenue, three days ago."

"We were going to Brighton Beach," the Russian suddenly remembered.

"Good, that's right you were taking the kids and Elliott to Olga's friends house for a birthday party for the woman's grandson."

"It was raining just like today was it not?"

"Yes it was."

"What happened again?" Illya, though remembering bits and pieces still looked lost and confused.

"You were in a taxi with Ellie and the kids when a sizable delivery truck rear-ended you."

Illya closed his eyes trying desperately to recall the event.

_They were all in the back seat of the yellow cab. Demya was seated between his mother and I. Lala was in my lap and I was playing pat-a-cake with her, holding her hands and clapping to the rhyme._

"_Laduski, laduski_

_Gde byli?_

_-U babushki._

_Chto eli?_

_-Kashku._

_Chto pili?_

_-Brazhku_

_Kashka masleri' ka_

_Brazka sladen'ka_

_Babushka dobren'ka!_

_Da Da Da!_

_._

"_Pat-a cake Pat-a-cake _

_Where are you?_

_At granny's_

_What did you eat?_

_-porridge._

_What did you drink?_

_-a little home-brewed beer!_

_The porridge is buttered_

_The home-brew is sweet_

_Grandmother is kind!_

_Yes yes yes"_

"_Da Da Da" Lala repeated the last line then erupted into a fit of giggles as he tickled her tummy while he made a quacking sound at her. He remembered how wonderful her laughter made him feel, the sense of joy that it filled him with when he always heard it._

_Suddenly the vehicle was jolted hard from behind and they were thrown wildly about inside the cab...he remembered hearing screams but he was trapped, surrounded by crumpled metal and he could hear Lourdes howling at the top of her lungs from somewhere in the wreckage._

"_Lala!" he called out to her, trying to move towards her voice but there was pain, lots of pain, he couldn't move and then it all went blank._

_._

"Lala! He blurted out.

"Illya are you alright?"

"Da, I remember it now. How is my daughter?" he whispered as he was beginning to shiver.

This was the moment that Napoleon had been dreading, giving his partner the bad news. "I have to tell it to you straight. It doesn't look good. I'm sorry tovarisch. She has a head injury and she's in a coma. The doctors say it doesn't look good."

Illya's jaw tightened, then he covered his eyes with is hand. "I need to see her," he said wiping them with his pajama sleeve.

"They won't let you up yet. They're watching you for signs of internal bleeding." Napoleon told him that, trying to bluff. He was in bad shape and pretty banged up but the main concern was really for his head injury and the upset of seeing the condition of his baby wouldn't do him any good.

"Since when has anything ever stopped you from helping me out of a hospital bed? Please, I need to see my daughter. Napoleon what if she...?"

This was the most lucid Illya had been since the accident, as well as the most he'd recalled about it. "Maybe he did deserve to see her. He was right,"Solo thought, what if she did die. Her father had a right to see her."

"I know, don't say it." He cut Illya off, as if not speaking the words would deny the truth of it, and somehow make not happen. He knew it was against his better judgement, but if he didn't help his partner then the man would do it by himself, and probably get hurt in the process.

"Look, I'll figure out something okay. Now just relax before the nurse comes in and sedates you? I'll be back in a little bit. Promise me you'll stay calm?"

"Da, ya obeshchayu." He gave his word.

Napoleon left, wondering how he was going to do this.

Illya lay alone looking out the rain falling like tears against the window pane, as he fought back his own tears. "I cannot lose my little girl...no this is not real. This could not be happening," he tried to convince himself.

Twenty minutes later a slightly winded Napoleon walked through the door pushing a wheel chair in front of him.

"Thank you my friend," Illya tried smiling.

"You have _no_ idea the promises I had to make to get this. And don't thank me until we have successfully completed our mission partner."

"I could just imagine," Illya said letting his imagination run wild. "Please I would not have you making any promises on my account that could jeopardize your marriage."

"Please give me some credit for creativity. Just tickets to some sporting event...that won't be cheap. But I figure this is worth it."

"I owe you my friend."

"Yes you do." Napoleon smiled. He helped Illya slide out of bed; the man letting out a hiss of pain as he was lowered into the wheel chair. Napoleon pulled the sheet from the bed, draping it across Illya's lap, then he put on a white doctor's coat and draped a stethoscope around his own neck, assuming his role of physician in this ruse. He unlocked the brakes and pushed his partner from the room.

Solo navigated the wheelchair down the hall with purpose, looking like he was the man in charge and knew what the hell he was doing.

"Hello Doctor," a nurse greeted him as she walked past, one he didn't recognize. And as she continued moving along; he breathed his first sigh of relief, though he knew they weren't out of the woods yet.

Somehow the plan worked and he was able to get Illya up to ICU. He wheeled the chair into the room but knew as soon as he saw the baby lying there with all the tubes, monitors and bandages that it was a mistake.

He'd seen his partner upset before, frightened and crazed out of his head after being drugged, but the look on his face was one of sheer devastation. Illya reached out, touching his baby's cheek with a trembling hand, not saying a word. His jaw stiffened and he kept his composure, not showing any sign of tears.

But Napoleon could hear him whispering to her in Russian, then uttering a plea to God for her life to be spared. "Please do not take away from me again? Take mine please if you must have a life and spare her?" Bozhe moi...palzhuista_dear God please!" He let his exclamation be heard by his partner.

A nurse walked in at that moment, halting in her tracks the moment she saw Illya in the wheelchair. Speaking softly to them, though she showed definite signs of anger in her voice.

"What the hell are you doing in here Mr. Kuryakin? Do you want to kill yourself? And you Mr. Solo, you should know better!"

She turned on her heels, returning a moment later accompanied by an orderly to take Illya back to his room.

Once outside in the hall she gave Napoleon a definitive evil eye and a piece of her mind to go with it.

"I know you U.N.C.L.E. agents think you can do as you please, but not on my watch. Now if you don't want to lose your visiting priviledges, I suggest that you don't pull a stunt like this again Mr. Solo. Am I clear on this?"

"Yes ma'am." Though he showed no signs of remorse in his tone of voice. He then turned away from her, following the orderly back to the elevator with his partner.


	2. Chapter 2

An annoyed duty nurse came in to check on Illya once he had been settled back into bed with the help of the orderly, and that was when Napoleon made a hasty retreat. "Ya na khochu drugoy povinovenii ot etogo_I don't not want to get another tongue lashing from this one." He spoke to his partner in Russian

"I heard that Mr. Solo," she snapped back apparently understanding him.

"Ugh, sorry Nurse...Chekov?" He said looking at her name badge.

"I'll be back later moy drug, da?" He said to his partner as he headed towards the door.

"Pozhaluista." Illya whispered.

"So Mr. Kuryakin, any more escape attempts," the nurse smiled at him," and I promise you I will have you put in restraints so much so that you won't even be able to scratch your balls. Got it?

"Ponyal, " he reluctantly agreed.

"Horosho_good. Now take these for the pain, as I'm sure your little adventure up to your daughters room has aggravated your body," she said holding out two tablets towards him in a paper cup. "I know you're worried about her and I understand how you feel, but you have to allow your injuries to heal. I know you don't believe it, but the doctors _do _know that they're doing."

He said nothing. In the past he would have engaged anyone who spoke Russian in conversation, but not this time. She was the enemy for the moment.

Illya took the cup in his hand but managed to palm the pills instead of swallowing them, then took a sip from the glass of water that followed. As soon as she was gone, the tucked the medication into the pillow case.

He was in pain, in that she was correct, but he had felt worse in the past and this was nothing he could not endure. An attempt to see Lourdes Mary again would not work now as he was sure they would be watching his room. He would have to rely on Napoleon for any details of her condition as he was sure Elliott would hold back the worst of it to keep him from becoming upset.

He shut his eyes tightly, fighting back any tears at the thought of losing his beautiful child. If she died, he would not only lose his daughter, but it would be like losing his beloved sister Katiya all over again...Lala was so much like her.

He fell asleep dreaming of Lourdes and Katiya, as they had become interchangeable in his dreams.

"_Illie catch me. Come play with me? Katiya called to him._

"_I cannot, I have work to do and much clean up the chicken coops...I will play with you later."_

"_Illie pleeeese? _

"_Alright," he laughed, "just for a few minutes." He tickled her and she began to giggle uncontrollably._

"_Pa-pa pay Lala da?"_

"_Lala moy angel, da. We can play, yes."_

_Da Da Da! Lalalalalala! She giggled uncontrollably as he tickled her while he sang to her, laduski laduski. Gde byli..."_

"PAPA!" A voice called to Illya, waking him with a start. His dream was so vivid, yet he knew that Lourdes couldn't talk yet, but in his dreams she was able to...or was it Katiya speaking to him?"

He opened his eyes seeing his son Demya rushing into his room accompanied by his partner.

"Papa Papa!" Demya charged to his bedside.

"Careful volchok," Napoleon said as he lifted the boy to the bed, "don't bang into your father, he has a lot of bumps and bruises."

"Papa, Lala is very sick," he whispered sadly.

Illya gently pulled his son close to him, kissing him on the head. Demya carefully wrapped his arms around his father's chest as if trying to soften the harshness of the news about his sister.

"Any news on her?" Illya asked Napoleon.

"Not yet, I was going to go check on her for you. Elliott sends her love, she's in bed at home. Not moving too well today so Schneider ordered her to stay supine and for once she didn't argue with him.

"That is a rarity," Illya smiled." I guess she is mellowing out a bit."

"Not by much, trust me. Bella is staying with her to make sure she remains in _compliance_ with Max's instructions.

"That will be interesting, Master Sergeant Bella meets...Wonder woman?" Illya questioned his reference.

"Very good tovarisch, there's hope for you yet." Napoleon smiled.

"I hardly think that will be on the test for citizenship." Illya quipped.

"Demmy?" Napoleon said, addressing his attention to the boy. "I'm going to go check on your sister and promise I'll be right back. You're in charge here until I do. Your Pop is not to step one foot out of bed. Vy ponimaete?"

"Da, I understand Uncle Napoleon. I promise."

As soon as Solo left, Illya tried pulling a fast one.

"Demyachka, go get me the wheelchair out in the hallway please?"

"No Papa, I promised Uncle Napoleon, so you know I can't."

"Demya Il'ich, ni oslushat' sya ottsa_Demya Il'ich do not disobey your father."

"Nyet." The boy switched to Russian just as his father always did when he meant business. "Ya da slovo_ I gave my word to my Uncle and cannot break it."

Illya sighed. "No you cannot, you must keep your word my son. That makes me very proud of you." He laid his head back down on the pillow, waiting impatiently for Napoleon's return.

Demya continued to lay beside his father, his hand clasped by him and Illya gave his son's small hand a squeeze...grateful that his boy was with him and unharmed.

.

Elliott had just finished dressing herself. As much pain as she was in, she just could not stand laying in bed any longer. She was restless and her inactivity did not help her worry as she fought back to control her emotions.

Her right arm was in a cast, she sported two black eyes, a broken nose and a large bandage across her forehead. The rest of her body was covered with assorted bruises and cuts along with a few stitches and every muscle seemed to ache. Just like her husband, she refused to take the pain killers she had been prescribed and Bella knowing her stubborn Irish temper didn't fight her on it.

Bella popped in the doorway with a couple of cups of tea in her hands. This was something she could at least use to soothe Elliott's frayed nerves. As a head nurse in Mount Sinai hospital, Bella was used to dealing with _special_ patients, those difficult to handle like foreign diplomats and of course U.N.C.L.E. agents who needed more intensive care than their medical facility could offer.*

It was there in the hospital that she'd met Napoleon, and Elliott and from her past experiences knew what trouble agents could be. They needed what she called TLC...tough loving care. But today was not the day to be tough with Elliott as there was too much emotion involved. Elliott needed compassion not commands.

She thought of her own daughters Appollonia and Lucine and their father Napoleon and tried to imagine how she'd feel if she were in Elliott's position, afraid of losing a husband and a child.

"Well I see that didn't last long." Bella said as she saw a fully clothed Elliott sitting on the bed. " Here just sit there and have some tea with me here, you're not going to tackle those stairs yet...are you?"

Elliott tried smiling. "No not quite, but soon. I just can't stay still like this. I need ta be busy, as I've too much on my mind. One can only _nap _so much. Ye understand don't ye?"

"Of course I do." Bella smiled gently. "Napoleon said Illya's awake and has come to his senses, and he took Demmy to see him. I hope you don't mind, we didn't want to wake you to tell you."

"No that's fine, it'll do them both good ta see each other, so does that mean Illuysha is out of the woods?"

"No, he's not yet, they're still monitoring his head injury and Lourdes is the same honey, no change. I know it's hard but they're both in good hands and that little one is a fighter...she comes from tough stock."

Elliott nodded slightly as she sipped her tea, but Bella could hear the cup rattling on the saucer as Elliott's hand trembled. She cold see that she was trying lot to let herself cry.

" I'm so afraid that I could lose them both."

Bella took hold of Elliotts hands in hers. "Hey aren't you the one who's always saying we have to have faith?" She then pulled a rosary from her pocket. " Come on, say a decade with me."

That did it, and the tears began to flow. Bella grabbed tissues for both of them, then together they began to pray aloud.

.

"Seven tension-filled days later Illya Kuryakin was finally being released from the hospital. He had endured the daily poking, prodding and physical therapy as he was still unsteady on his feet, but his balance had finally improved.

He was still quite sore from his surgery. He was not quite able to bend that well yet and the effort to dress himself exhausted him, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone.

Elliott was there with him, but refused her offer of help, being his usual stubborn self, opted to dress himself in the bathroom away from prying eyes and good intentions.

He steadied himself as today would be the first day that he would be permitted to actually visit with his daughter. He'd been taken by wheel chair a few times, but could only look at her from across the room as she was surrounded by too much medical equipment.

The doctors had informed him of her condition as had his wife; she had been downgraded from critical to serious but to him there was little difference.

Elliott visited their daughter daily, but he knew that she was giving him sugar-coated updates, and understood her reasoning for doing so.

He walked out from the bathroom, moving slowly and deliberately, just a little hunched over from his discomfort.

Once he would have bounced back from such injuries in no time, but he was getting older and his body had suffered many abuses over the years. He was still refusing to take his pain medications and the nursing staff had all but given up on fighting with him over it.

He was allergic to penicillin and the only thing the would agree to take was ampicillin to ward off any infection.

"Are ye are sure ye are up to this Illuysha?'

He shot her an irritated look as his answer.

Elliott walked over to him, brushing a piece of lint form his grey polo shirt. "Don't get annoyed with me, " she said, holding his sports jacket up for him to slip his one arm into it as his other was still in a cast.

"Everyone is walking around me like they are on egg shells when Lourdes' name is mentioned, I am her father and am worried about her and I have every right to know the truth.

What is going on with her, and no sugar coating this time? I am tired of being coddled...I need to know the truth."

Elliott's face flushed pink. "Ye are right, I have been protecting ye. She's not doing well.

"Annushka what exactly does that mean?"

"The truth is our daughter may die, we just told you that she was in serious condition, when she's in fact still in critical condition. She has some swelling on the brain and they they are considering inserting a shunt to relieve the pressure. She has a skull fracture and is in a coma. If she comes out of the coma and she survives, the doctors are unsure if there will be brain damage."

Illya said nothing as he was again brought to his daughter in a wheel chair. "Sorry, hospital rules Mr. Kuryakin, " the orderly apologized.

The Russian's hand was held by his wife and she helped him to rise from the chair and giving it a squeezed before she released it once they had reached ICU.

Illya walked slowly to his daughters crib, looking down upon the tiny red-headed child, still attached to a myriad of tubes and wires. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor beeping was the only noise in the room, besides the shushing sound of a respirator.

His hand shook as he reached for her, his lower lip trembling and he gently stroked her face. She looked so swollen and bloated, and her beautiful pale skin was dotted with fading bruises.

Elliott reached out to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head against his back, then he turned to her, pulling her into his arms but saying nothing as the two of the grieved together in silence.

Dr. Abrams the attending physician walked into the room.

"Oh good, you're both here. I have some good news at last for you, "he announced with a broad smile. "Her swelling has decreased substantially and we're going to remove her the respirator. She's one tough little girl, I'll give you that. Now if I you could just step of the room for a few minutes to let me do my thing?"

Together they walked to the waiting room, Elliott steadying her husband just a little. They were hopeful at the news, but seemed afraid to acknowledge it just yet.

Dr. Abrams walked out to them. "Everything is fine, she's breathing on her own. We'll still need to keep the feeding tube in and the catheters of course. Now it's just a question of time.

"Time?" Illya asked.

"To see if she wakes up from the coma. I wish I could tell you more than that. Right now she's in God's hands as there's nothing more that I can do for her."

They went in again to see their daughter and after a few minutes Elliott looked at her watch." Illya we need to go now, Demmy will be getting home from Carmines soon and I'm sure he'll be all fired up ready to see you."

"I am staying here," he announced.

"Ye can't do that."

"Do not try to persuade me otherwise ma chèrie, I am not leaving her and that is final. And besides I have to be here first thing in the morning for physical therapy anyway."

"Ah sure that's just yer excuse." She smiled knowingly. "Fine, just don't forget ye have another child at home?"

"I have not, Demya will be fine, perhaps you could bring him tomorrow to visit both of us, da?"

"Alright, ye win Cossack, but remember the doctor said no bending or lifting, please listen to that much will ye? And too bad "she whispered quietly," and when ye do get home...remember, no sex for a while."

"Ha ha." He smirked wickedly." But you better watch out for when I _am_ able to make love to you."

They kissed each other goodby without saying another word.

He latched onto the railing of Lourdes' crib, so tightly that his knuckles turned white...old emotions and hurts from his childhood were struggling to free themselves, as tears finally welled up in his eyes.

"I am here Kat..." he stopped himself, almost saying his sister's name, his little red-haired sister that he still berated himself for having left her alone to die.

He pushed those feelings aside, reaching out to Lourdes, stroking her tiny head. If she were to die, she would not do it alone. He would be there with her, and not abandon her.

"Papa zdes' moya devochka, Papa zdes'_Papa is here my baby girl, Papa is here," he whispered softly to her. I will not leave you until you come back to me..."he choked on the next words, " or until you leave me to go to heaven."

"He closed his eyes, praying silently then asked his Mama and Baba and the rest of his family to watch over Lourdes Mary Il'ich Kuryakin.

.

* ref "The Summit Affair"


	3. Chapter 3

Illya carefiully settled himself into a lounge chair that was near to his daughters bed, sitting there and staring at her while watching and listening to her breathe; hoping as if by sheer force of will he could get her to wake up if he concentrated hard enough. He finally became drowsy as he listened to the steady sound of her heartbeat on the monitor until it finally lulled him to sleep and into a nightmarish dream.

_"Brother, you will pay for what you did. A price must be exacted." Kiril Andropov's ghostly voice echoed around him."Your daughter will do fine as payment." *_

_"No! Kiril you cannot do that. I did it, take me instead?"_

"_Pa-pa Pa-pa!" He heard a tiny voice calling to him over and over again...Lala couldn't talk yet, but it had to be her voice. He knew the sound of her voice._

"_Where are you Lourdes, come to Papa, follow my voice. Papa cannot see you." He seemed engulfed in total darkness._

_Kiril laughed, taunting him, but then he was gone. Everything seemed to be swirling around him now, changing to flashing lights colors, whispers._

"_Pa-paaaa! Lourdes' voice sounded farther away, and more urgent as she called to him._

"_Lala do not move, I will come to you. Keep saying my name, keep talking to Papa!"_

"_Illuyshenka_." _Another familiar voice spoke out to him._

_Illya hesitated, it was one he had not heard in a long time. _"_Mama_?_ Is that you?"_

_Da moy syn, eto Mama. She is beautiful your daughter._

"_You see her Mama?"_

"_Yes my son she is near me."_

"_Mama pazhaluista, keep my baby safe? Send her back to me?" Then he heard the echo of a music box playing, it was a slow and melancholy melody...he knew that music? Then it stopped and he suddenly sensed he was alone._

"_Lala? __Mama...Mamouchka? Do not leave me? Help me?"_

.

Napoleon walked into the room carrying an over sized pink Teddy bear and a small painted box tucked under his arm. He spotted Illya asleep in the chair and tried to move quietly but really knew better and that his partner had most likely already heard him.

Illya's eyes popped open with a gasp. "_Mama_?"

"Not since I last looked?" Napoleon smiled." You okay?"

"Just a dream... what are you doing here? I thought you were on assignment."

"It was cancelled, seems Thrush did us a favor and blew up their newest lab by accident...all on their own. I wish _that_ would happen more often."

Illya snickered. "Then where would the fun be in it for me?"

"Yes I know how you like to make things go _boom, _and I'm sure Thrush will continue to give you more opportunities. Now might ask the same question of you...what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be home right now? I heard you were released."

"I am _not_ leaving here until she wakes up," he answered with a finality to his voice.

Napoleon raised his eyebrows. "That could be a while tovarisch, but if that's how you feel, you just let me know what you need. The duty nurse did fill me in on the bit of good news about the respirator, that's at least something positive."

"Yes as you can see she is breathing on her own but other than that, she is the same."

The American tucked the stuffed toy near Lourdes' feet, then placed the small box on the the table beside the crib and opened it. It was a music box, playing what was instantly recognizable to Illya, a melancholy but beautuful melody. Somehow he had heard it in his dream, his _gift_ telling him that this was going to happen. If only his sensitivity had warned him not to go to Brighton Beach that fateful day.

"Debussy's Moonlight," he smiled. "Is that Elliott's?"

"No, Bella liked the one that you'd given Ellie so much that I bought her one. She likes the idea of playing it when I'm away, just like Ellie does with hers. I thought it might be good for Lala to hear something familiar. They say that music is helpful to people in comas," he added, looking at his watch and noting that it was after seven in the evening. "Did you eat any dinner?"

"No I fell asleep, but I am a little hungry," Illya answered sheepishly.

"A little hungry? With you that's like saying a blizzard is just a little snow my friend," he chuckled at that.

"Here your blizzards _are_ a little snow. Now in Russia..."

"Yeah yeah I know, now that's _real_ snow." Solo grinned. It was good to hear his friend sounding a bit more like himself again, in spite of the harrowing circumstances. "So how does Chinese sound? I'll go get us some takeout."

'Da that would be good my friend, spacibo. Once Napoleon left Illya gingerly pushed himself up from the chair, picking up the music box and giving the key a few turns then placed it carefully back on the table.

"Lala, come back to Papa, listen to the music. Please come back to Papa?" He leaned on the crib railing as he leaned in, stroking her little arm...he steady beep of the heart monitor intertwined with Debussy's beautiful melody. "Follow the music my sweet, follow Papa's voice? Mamouchka, rukovodstvo ko mne spinoy_ Mama, guide her back to me?"

.

Napoleon returned a short while later with a double order of roast pork lo mein, chicken with cashews, egg rolls and dumplings, and enjoyed watching he partner dig in with his usual gusto. They also shared a thermos of green tea.

Once they were finished, Illya slowly pushed himself up from the chair, intending to clean up.

"Stop." Napoleon motioned with his hand. "Just relax and let me take care of this?"

"Napoleon I am not an invalid."

"Yeah but your hurting, I can see it in your eyes and of course God forbid you take your pain medication, so just sit and recuperate for once will you please?"

"Oh yes, look who the pot is calling the kettle black." Illya smiled at him, knowing his partner was equally as guilty for not taking medications.

"I'll take care of this," Napoleon insisted, gathering the empty containers and tossing them into the trash.

The two of them sat together in silence, Illya keeping vigil on his daughter. Napoleon keeping vigil on the both of them until the Russian finally dozed off again, allowing him to walk ousidet to the nurses station to procure a blanket for his partner.

"How is he? The nurse asked, being much more sympathetic that she had been.

"Hurting as only a father could."

"Well let him know there's a lot of people praying for the little darling. She's so cute...looks just like her mother. They seem to be a nice family, I hope it all goes for the better for them." The nurse smiled.

"Amen to that." Napoleon thanked her with one of his most charming smiles, then walked back with the blanket.

He draped it over Illya, surprised that this time he didn't show signs of waking. And then stood there staring at the Russian for a second, then between father and daughter before he left. It was time for him to go home and see to his own family...grateful that he still had them alive and well. "There but for the Grace of God go I." He whispered, knowing that it could just as easily had been his own family in such a car accident.

With all the danger that he and Illya faced sometimes on a daily basis, it was easy to forget the that every day life was fraught with perils as well.

He said a silent prayer for Loudes as he looked down upon her tiny body laying there in the crib, thinking this wans't fair. She was so small and helpless and that made him think of his Poly and Luci, nearly the same age as Lala. They all should have been born within days of each other but Lourdes came into the world under violent circumstances and was a month premature thanks to that madman Owen Smythe.** She was born because of tragedy, and now prayed that it would not be tragedy that took her out of the world as well.

.

The next morning Elliott arrived early with a change of clothes, a shaving kit and breakfast for her stubborn husband.

"How are ye feeling today?" she said, opening the drapes to the room to let some sunshine in. She opted to kiss him on the cheek, "Eww, morning breath my love, "she said handing him his toothbrush.

"Mmmm sorry, I had Chinese food late last night with Napoleon and to answer your question I feel like I slept in a chair," he said as he stretched.

Elliott walked over to their daughter, running her fingers through the child's soft hair, tucking the blanket around her as she looked for any changes, hoping for some sign of improvement but sadly there were none. She picked up the Teddy bear, squeezing it to her.

"The pink bear is gift from Uncle Napoleon," he said.

Then she spotted the music box, picking it up she wound the key, then set it back on the table top, listing to it play.

"Just like mine," she smiled." Did Napoleon bring this too?"

"Yes he gave one to Bella as she liked yours. She listens to it to as well when Napoleon is away."

"I like that...Bella and I we're sympatico. She's been a great help through all of this."

That made her husband smile as watched her reaching for the wicker basket, "Breakfast is served my darlin;" she said, withdrawing bagels, containers of cream cheese, smoked salmon, fresh fruit and a thermos of hot tea and of course a small jar of raspberry jam for Illya to sweeten his tea.

They nibbled away until Elliott reminded him of his appointment downstairs with rehab in less than a half hour.

Illya looked at Lourdes with concern. He did not want to leave her side.

"Illuysha, ye are _not_ leaving her alone. I'll be here with her, now go get yerself washed up and get to rehab and that's an order."

He went reluctantly after having washed, shaved and then changed his clothes but at least that process was easier than it had been the day before.

This became the routine for another week, broken up by visits from a very happy Demya, who seemed to instictively understand his father's need to stay with Lourdes. Not once did the child ask when his father...or sister for that matter were coming home. He was glad to just to be able to visit with them. And spoke positively about his sister getting well as he decided they would go to the park when she returned home.

His parents said nothing to discourage his train of thought.

.

Illya's physical therapy was finally over and would be out of his cast in a matter of days. He was getting better, but the reality that his little girl just might not wake from her coma was finally setting in.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, dark and raining and the temperature was chilly...just like it was the day of the accident.

Illya had opened up the music box, letting it play for a while when he heard a slight sound over the melody before the music stopped. It was coming from the crib and he rushed to it. There he saw his little girl laying with her eyes wide open.

"Lala, moya angel, do you know who I am?" he whispered to her.

Her tiny mouth curved to a smile, then she uttered a small moan."

"I am here my sweet," he grinned, "Papa is here."

"Lalaaaa?" She tried her usual babble but her voice was very weak. "unnngh?" She winged quietly.

He wasn't quite sure what she wanted but knew she was asking for something. He looked at the music box on the table."

"Music? You want to hear the pretty music?"

"Unnngh!"

He pressed the call button for the duty nurse, then gave the key on the music box a few turns to start it playing.

"Uncle Napoleon brought it here for you to listen to while you were sleeping...you were alseep a very long time."

"Lalalala?."

"Yes my darling. But now it is time for you to wake up my little girl, Papa has been very lonely waiting for you." He said gently tickling her tummy.

Lourdes let out one of her wonderful giggles, making her father's heart dance with with joy.

A week and a half later Loudes Mary Il'ich was with her family, fully recovered, laughing and happily clapping. They were all gathered together with Uncle Napoleon, Aunt Bella and her _cousins _Poly and Luci. Together they were seated at a large dining table at the Solo residence, and Napoleon was getting ready to carve the turkey.

The table was filled with all kinds of vegetables, corn, potatoes candied yams and biscuits, jellied cranberries, gravy and stuffing...all the _fixins'_ as Napoleon called it. It wasn't Thanksgiving but they were treating it like it was.

He raised his glass of wine. "To friends and family...we have much to be thankful for on this day, maybe more that usual."

Illya smiled raising his glass to his friend and partner.

"Bozhe moi, spacibo_dear God, thank you for my giving me back my daughter," he whispered, exclaiming to himself as he bowed his head.

"Here here," Illya then said aloud looking into the eyes of his beautiful wife, then smiling at his blond son and lastly gazing happily his little red-headed daughter sitting in her highchair.

"Heh heh," Lala said, sounding like she was innocently parroting her father's words, holding up her baby bottle as if she too was joining in the toast and that sent everyone into a fit of unbridled laughter.

This truly was a day of thanksgiving...but then any time one of them lived to see another day would always be a day for them to give thanks.

.

*ref "The Sins of our Fathers Affair" ** ref "The Vengeance is Mine Affair"


End file.
